The Seminar
by Sera Terranova
Summary: A glimpse into a special seminar at the Jedi temple.


The student's chattered animatedly as the filed into the auditorium in small groups. Some of them would soon become Padawans, most of the others would return to their families or join the teams rebuilding shattered worlds throughout the Republic.

Despite the years that had passed and the many changes he had observed he still found the notion of students with families very odd. Still — more stayed the same than changed, the students were so easily classified it was tempting to forget they were individuals. The cynics slumped in the back seats where they planned to spend their time ignoring him. The eager loners, who anticipated he would vindicate their strict self imposed restrictions, perched on the seats at the front. The popular students, who flaunted the rules with panache and daring, sat amid pools of sycophants in the middle ground. The rest, the more balanced and mature students, sat in groups of two or three between the more colourful characters. They were so young, so very ignorant of life's terrible pains and wonderful joys — still full of themselves yet unsure and impressionable, he hoped. Few of them were here voluntarily; his special seminar on the philosophy of the Jedi code was never popular but it was required. Many of them had mindlessly recited the Jedi code since they could speak, but few had ever really thought about it's meaning. The council insisted that every student attend the seminar in their year's turn and write a paper on the meaning of the code.

Master Ambiel stood and raised her hands to gain their attention. She frowned at a set of gigglers in the third row then introduced him. "I would like to welcome Master Mical back to Coruscant. Master Mical was the temple's chronicler and a member of the council for forty-two years before retiring to enjoy a well deserved rest. He was honoured with the title of The Order's Conscience and was also once my Master. He has kindly left his beloved garden on Telos to come and speak to you today." She bowed respectfully to her former master then as he stood, she turned and walked towards the door.

The students watched Master Ambiel walk briskly out the door and shared a moment of startlement as they heard the lock click. Mical coughed and stamped his cane on the auditorium's stage. "Now," he said in a raspy voice, "it is just you and I."

The students looked around quickly and noted all the things they had missed when they had filed blithely into the room. All the doors were closed, the pick up cameras were covered, there were no droids nor other Jedi in the room, even the tall windows on the north wall were covered.

He nodded and hobbled forward a bit. "Yes, alone or as alone as a group of seventy some odd sentients can be." He paused but no rash voice sang out to ask the obvious question. "You want to know why they have locked you up with this decrepit old man, eh? Don't you."

They nodded mutely, confusion marred their faces.

"Not everything is what it seems. Today we **will** discuss the meaning of the Jedi code but there is more to this yearly meeting." He coughed again, it was a rasping old man's cough. He was struck again by the oddity of a sentient old and near the end of his life seeking input and aid from children. "You are also here to judge your teachers."

A murmur arose in about the third row and fled to the back of the room. He let it roll back towards the front of the room before interrupting the speculations. "Nothing said in this room leaves this room, if you cannot live with that stricture then you must leave now and turn your back on the Jedi order. For to be a Jedi, a true Jedi, is to be measured against a higher bar everyday. If you cannot stand to scrutinize your masters as you may someday be scrutinized by the republic and your students, then" he spoke slowly and punctuated each of the next words by pounding his cane on the floor, "you — must — go!"

Suddenly Master Mical's presence loomed over each student in the room, he could see the pressure on their faces. It was an unusual but effective use of the battle meditation technique Master Bastila had taught him as a young man. He scanned through them all very quickly but detected nothing untoward.

He leaned heavily on his cane for a moment then made his way over to the stool under the students' wary gazes. Mical cleared his throat again before beginning. "There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no chaos; there is harmony. There is no death; there is the Force." He paused again. "We recite it daily. It is so integral to who we are that the Sith schools altered it rather than abandoning it entirely. It has been treated as a prayer, a plea and more recently a code of conduct. In these more 'enlightened' days some believe that the code has little meaning for modern Jedi; these naysayers are quite wrong. No student that cannot or will not understand the code is ever accepted as a Padawan."

He could see doubt cloud their expressions. He sat quietly on the stool and waited; he looked as if he could comfortably wait for hours. After what seemed like an eternity of silence to the students a hand was tentatively raised. Mical nodded at the young woman and she stood.

"Master there are Jedi who marry now. Most of us visit our families regularly..."

He stared at her as she faltered, "Yes, you are correct. What does this lead you to conclude."

She looked at her friends for support then took a deep breath before continuing, "Well, they aren't really paying attention to the code then, are they?"

Mical harrumphed. "Never challenge a debater with a question young woman, not even when debating with a Master." He banged his cane on the floor. "Good point, why didn't the rest of you say it... did I not say that nothing said in this room leaves this room. Now, good point but misguided." He gestured to the girl. "Sit down Mellinn."

The girl was so startled to hear her name pass his lips she dropped into her seat with a thud.

"There was a time in the not so distant past when the council did treat the Jedi code as a set of rules for living. What happened to that council, Dannel?"

Dannel, who had been whispering to his neighbour in the last row jumped as though he'd been prodded with a shock stick. "Sorry, sir?"

"The council, Dannel, what happened to the old Jedi council?" Mical said with weary patience, he felt very old suddenly, old and tired of children who had little to bolster their cynicism but attitude.

"They were assassinated, Master Mical."

"By whom?"

"By the Sith."

"Not just the Sith. You think it is us and them." He stood and declared dramatically, "**We** are on the side of light and **they** are in the dark." Mical shook his head as he sat back down. "It is never that simple. The Jedi gave birth to the modern Sith and they came back to kill the council for that favour. Why?"

A young man in the third row stood and said angrily, "How can we know that? The Sith are known to be ravening beasts who take cruel delight in the torture of innocents and destruction."

"Yes, that is the popular image of the Sith." He waved his hands to still the protests of the young man. "Do not mistake me, Harrem, I do not claim such atrocities have not occurred. Indeed they are well documented but that does not make the Sith them... they are Force users, just as we are and the majority of Sith received training from the Jedi." He let that thought hold them for a moment. "Why? Why did they come back for the council? The council was their best supplier and yet they murdered them and drove the council into hiding."

One of the cynics in the back row spoke up, "Fear." She spoke without inflection and without rising from her seat; her feet were propped on a desk in a purposeful pose of indifference.

"Fear of what, Tel?" asked Mical gently.

"Fear of reprisals, fear that the next wave of angry young Padawan's and apprentices would come and wipe them out."

"Yes... the **next** wave. Do you see what they knew, what they represent... failure. They knew that our methods were flawed and despite the dubious benefits that had garnered them they feared that the next set of failures, the ones their own actions might galvanize. They wanted to control the future Force users and not be challenged by those outside of their command structure. But even though they succeeded in destroying the Jedi council, their plan did not work. Why?"

An intense boy, much younger looking than the rest of his peers answered in an awed voice, "Because they took the council's errors with them. It wasn't our particular code..." He blushed and stopped, but Mical waved him on. "...it was the way they used the code."

"Exactly." Mical felt a rush of satisfaction. Young Gerd was everything his Master had said; he was perceptive beyond his years. Mical was struck by a sudden vision of an older version of Gerd at the front of an auditorium. _At last, here is my successor, the next conscience of the Order. Finally, the years of my service are numbered. _

"I said earlier that the code had been used many ways. In the ancient times, when the code was first developed, it was used more like a mantra. A mantra is literally an instrument of thought. It was never meant to be a daily code of conduct, to set a bar that high is to deny the Jedi any life, to deny us any freedom. The code was meant to aid us in choosing the right path, in making decisions and in this way it is a very useful tool indeed."

Several of the students sat back to think.

"When do your masters urge you to remember the code? Only when you need to do something difficult, to focus and make decisions." He sighed. "You have been repeating it since you were young in an effort to program your response to those simple lines. How do you feel when you stop and recite the code?"

"Calm," said one voice, "At peace," said another, "Ready," said a third.

"Yes, that is the purpose of the code. There is no emotion; there is peace." He took a sip of water. "Is there anyone here who does not experience emotion?" He waited and watched their bewildered expressions. "Have you ever been happy? Are you pleased when your favorite food is on the dinner menu? Do your masters let you know when they are proud of your progress? These are all emotions. We have emotions there is no way around that **but** we should not be ruled by our emotions. When the time comes to choose a course of action we need to put aside our emotions and find peace."

He watched the idea roll around in their heads. For some acciptance was immediate, others needed to let the notion percolate. He nodded firmly. "There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. What does it really mean?"

Gerd said excitedly, "Make your decisions from what you know, not what you guess."

"Indeed. We can never learn everything about a particular situation and we will make mistakes but we must guard against making decisions based on ignorant assumptions and prejudices. You may someday encounter an altruistic Hutt or a cruel and unkind cousin of Master Vandar's."

The students chuckled.

"You laugh now yet the prejudice still faced by female Twi'leks is well recognized and pervasive. Your bias' are dangerous and must be examined regularly."

They nodded but Mical knew most of them did not yet believe they were afflicted with such an unattractive trait.

"There is no passion; there is serenity." Mical shot a quelling glance at Gerd before he could leap to his feet again. The boy leaned back into his seat a trifle resentfully. "Mellin?"

"Don't make decisions in the heat of the moment that you may regret later."

"Yes!" Mical grinned, it transformed his face and momentarily revealed the boyishness that had been his trademark well into his fifties. "Now, you are really seeing the code. Passions are fine, passionate painters, chefs and musicians are not just condoned but embraced. But passions of any sort are a poor basis for making decisions."

A wave of comments swept around the room.

Harrem stood and bowed to Master Mical, perhaps in apology for his angry outburst. "Then 'there is no chaos; there is harmony' refers to the desired state of mind a Jedi should find before acting."

"Yes Harrem, striking out with a weapon or the Force with passion or a mind in chaos is how tragedies are born. With harmony we become one with the Force and can act in the most beneficial manner. Now what of the last line in the code? There is no death; there is the Force."

"It's comforting, I suppose," said Tel dubiously.

Mical chuckled.

"I—I think it's comforting," said Dannel from the back row. His fellow toughs eyed him owlishly. "What? I do. It means even if we fall we become one with the Force. It isn't the end and Jedi, unlike most sentients, can, when the need is dire, reach back from beyond death to impart those last messages that need to be heard."

Mical smiled up at Dannel then glanced over at young Gerd and winked quickly. Gerd suddenly understood that he wasn't being chastised earlier, Master Mical already knew he understood. Mical stood up and smiled reassuringly, "When one becomes a Jedi, the Force is all around you all the time. This last line is much more comforting and reassuring to a fully trained Force user. In part that is why a Jedi can be brave and calm in dire situations but overdependence on the living Force is not a virtue. As with all things we must strive for balance."

A comfortable silence dropped over the room and though Mical was loathe to break it, he was tiring and needed to finish the seminar.

"Now you know how a Jedi should make decisions and think. Jedi need this code for several reasons. We yield unusual power both physically and socially. We are called upon to investigate strange happenings and settle disputes regularly. The Jedi are often called upon to be both the judge and the hand that wields the saber of justice. Who judges the Jedi?"

"Everyone," said Tel sardonically, from her seat but her feet were no longer on the desk.

Mical nodded, "Yes, that's true. Let me reword the question, who has the power to enforce a judgment on the Jedi?"

"No one," answered Tel with a snort. "They Jedi are supportive of the Republic but stand alone."

"You are correct, which is why we must remain vigilant and weed out power seekers in our ranks. Those who cannot abide by the code are corrected or rejected by the order. But how do we find these power seekers?"

The students looked at him blankly.

Harrem finally spoke up, "By testing before they become Jedi?"

"Yes but that is not sufficient. Tell me, who is most familiar with the length of a tyrant's nails?"

"His victims," replied Harrem.

"Who does a tyrant victimize?"

Tel leaned forward and said firmly, "The weakest."

"Who are the weakest here?"

"Us!" said Gerd his eyes wide with shock.

"Yes, you... you are those most likely to see the hand of the tyrant."

"But...but..." Gerd's mouth moved soundlessly.

Mical gestured encouragingly to him.

"But we've the least ability to tell."

"That too is true. Quite the dilemma, isn't it. So, we do not ask you to judge the Jedi, only a decision. I have just given you the measure of a good decision. It was a set of scales you've always had with you but did not know how to use... the Jedi code. In light of todays discussion you must write two essays. The first, which will be shared with your masters, is the one you expected to write. You will have to show that you now understand the code by citing events in your lives. The second is only for my eyes, in it you must review the worst example of a Jedi's behavior, in light of this discussion. Though any one of you might individually make a poor judge as a group, over time, students give a very clear picture of how the Order is doing."

"That is what your title means," said Gerd his eyes still wide with shock.

Mical closed his eyes and used his talent to scan them one last time. The results were fine, as he had expected. _Ah there's my bias again, I expect the Order's students to be forthright and honest. I must remember that in any large organization there are the best and the worst, the Jedi are no exception._ He opened his eyes took a deep breath and began.

"There is no emotion."

"There is peace," they responded.

"There is no ignorance."

"There is knowledge."

"There is no passion."

"There is serenity."

"There is no chaos."

"There is harmony."

"There is no death."

"There is the Force."

The eager loners, the popular daring ones, the back row cynics and everyone in between stood respectfully as Master Mical, leaning heavily on his cane, hobbled to the door. With a gesture he used the Force to open it and slowly made his way out of sight. He heard them collectively release the breath they'd been holding. The chatter burst forth from them all, as he had expected. He used the Force to call back into the room, "Nothing said in this seminar leaves this room."

Another hush fell over the room then they began to file out, silently.

Mical grinned and made his way to the cell he'd been assigned. Master Ambiel joined him in the hall.

"How long do you think you'll be staying?"

"Oh, it will take me a few weeks to clear through them all."

"What of Gerd?"

"Yes, he's the one. But we must wait until he completes his current training cycle before you send him to me on Telos. He does seem a little stuffy and single-minded at first glance."

"Well, staying with you and your wife should cure him of that."

Mical smiled, "We're no where near as shocking as we were when you were my Padawan. Ambiel."

"Now, Master Mical," she said with a chuckle, "Since I'm quite confident Mira is still shocking you, I'm quite sure poor Gerd doesn't stand a chance."

"Oh you are wrong there Ambiel. I've foreseen this young student, he has the nerve and moral fiber to rise to all his challenges and he will need it when he finds out he's the great grandchild of the two Jedi that founded the new order and destroyed the old one. Yes, he'll need all the moral fiber, strength and wit of his antecedents to meet the future."


End file.
